Beloved Castaway (22 page)

“I will seek an answer as to how the funds came to be placed in this box. I will also exact redress for anyone involved.”

Isabelle studied her slippers, which peeked out beneath her skirt. As he watched, she drew her knees to her chest, making sure to adjust the ample fabric to continue full coverage of her limbs. Wrapping her arms around her knees, Isabelle finally glanced in his direction. “Thank you,” was her soft reply.

She felt this foreign stirring, too; he knew it, although he knew not how he came to the knowledge. The question before him was whether another had already claimed this sea siren.
 

“Isabelle?”

Green eyes blinked. “Yes?”

He paused to choose the proper words. “Is there someone waiting for you in England?”

“The mademoiselle has distant relatives,” she said, “although I am uncertain as to whether I will make their acquaintance. She did send letters of introduction, but. . .” Color flooded her cheeks. “I am babbling.”

“Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “One further question.”

Isabelle nodded, and several of the curls she’d pinned up fell. “I shall attempt to keep the answer brief.”

“Aye.” He allowed his hand to touch the tendril of hair now, beyond caring about the propriety of it. When she met his gaze, he stated his question. “Is there someone waiting for you, someone to whom you have been promised?”

A shadow crossed her pretty features, and she seemed to be grappling for an answer. Just when Josiah thought she might crush him with her answer, she responded.

“There is no one I love.”

He watched her face for signs of protest or discomfort as he wrapped the curl around his finger. When his palm touched the back of her neck, her eyes closed. There was nothing left to do but kiss her, so he did.

“As the lily among thorns,” he whispered a moment later.
 

Her eyes flew open. “You’ve been reading my Bible.”

“Aye, although ’tis not my first time to find solace in its pages.” He paused to gauge her reaction. “Are you surprised?”

“Truthfully?”
 

Her smile was radiant, so much so that he could only kiss her again. His lunacy complete, Josiah nodded.

“I was told you were an infidel.”

“Is that so?” Josiah leaned his head against the chamber’s wall and gathered Isabelle to him. “And who told you this?”

She stiffened in his grasp. “This I prefer not to say.”

Josiah chuckled. “A woman of mystery, I see. Perhaps I can cajole the information from you. I am, after all, captain of this vessel. I can have you thrown in the brig until your tongue is loosened.”

Isabelle joined him in laughter. “There is no brig aboard this vessel.”

“You’ve been talking to my brother.”

“I have.” She settled back against him. “He’s an intelligent fellow, your brother.”

“Aye. Yet he is not the object of our discussion, Isabelle.”

She gave him an innocent look. “I must plead ignorance, then. Pray tell who the object of our discussion might be, Captain.”

The vessel shuddered, and wood creaked, a sound that in a more familiar ship might not cause concern. The
Jude
, however, was yet untried and thus a source of mystery.

Much as he could wile away the hours thus, Josiah knew the conversation must soon end. “I would return briefly to an earlier statement you made, Isabelle,” he said, affecting an air, he hoped, of casual indifference.

“Oh?”

She shifted positions and studied her fingers until he touched her chin and directed her gaze toward him. “When asked if you were promised to anyone, you did not answer directly.”

Guile was not her natural friend, yet Isabelle could practice it when she wanted. This much became quickly obvious. “Did I not?”
 

“You did not.” His hand moved from her chin to caress her jaw. “I would have an answer.”
 

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. She either liked him very much or disliked him solidly. Either was possible, but only one did he hope for.

“What concern is it to you?”

How much more to declare? With the kiss, he’d already dangled his toes in the dangerous waters of love and affection. Dared he jump in full away?

“You are promised to one you do not love.”

The statement was out. Now all that he could do was pray she refute it.
 

Isabelle turned her face to hide her expression in his palm. A moment later, he felt the first tear. “Yes.”

Twin emotions of jealousy and rage filled him. Jealousy over whatever passions she had shared with the unnamed man and rage that he would never deserve such a treasure.

Neither of them would.

Three words escaped his clenched jaw. “Who is he?”

The watch bell rang, and voices called from the deck above. He should to go his men, see to whatever situation was unfolding.

Yet here he sat, a hopeless sot in the throes of a love that would remain unrequited. He was, in short, a piteous fool.

“I am not who you think I am, Josiah.” Her eyes downcast, she looked away. “I am only who I pretend to be.”

What sort of statement was that?

To his surprise, she shifted position to rise up on her knees, bringing her at eye level with him. A new expression, one of determination or perhaps resignation, touched her delicate features.

The vessel shuddered once more, and Isabelle tumbled forward. Josiah caught her waist and held her at arm’s length.

“Who is he?”

“Did you not hear me? I am not who you think I am.” She
grasped his shoulders and held on tight. “I was not born to the manor like you.”

“Born to the manor?” His chuckle held no humor. “Born to the parsonage is more like it. Although it was a fine and elegant parson-age despite the fire and brimstone that was bandied about, I will admit that.”

“Yes, I am sure it was.” Her sarcasm was impossible to miss. “As was my gilded prison, although I assure you no fire and brimstone was ever preached within the confines of its silk-covered walls.”

“You were held prisoner? Isabelle, I will have an explanation, and I will brook no merriment or folly. Give me the full truth.”

She seemed to consider his command for a moment. “Know you the term
plaçage
?”

“I do.” Realization dawned. “Isabelle, are you?”

“A
placee
? Yes, I am, or rather I was sold as one but made my escape courtesy of the
Jude
before my protector could seal the bargain.”

“That would make you—”

“An octoroon.” She stated the word with no distaste, only polite dispassion. “My mother, I am to understand, was a quadroon. A slave kept not to work the fields or polish the silver, but for her owner’s comfort. She captured many hearts with her beauty, but she belonged to only one. I belong to him, as well. My mother should have been considered a free woman of color, but he would not allow it because he feared he might lose her. At least, that is what Mama Dell says.” She shrugged. “Because my father could not bear to lose my mother, I was born a slave. The great irony is that he’s lost both of us now.”

The air went out of him and, for a moment, Josiah was unable to speak. What she stated with such ease should have changed everything.
 

It should have, but it did not.

Chapter 19

When he could force the words from their lodging place in his throat, Josiah gave voice to the only remaining question. “Who are these men, the ones who have bought and sold you like livestock? I will have their names and their heads.”

“No.” Isabelle’s defiance startled him. Should someone offer him a measure of revenge against those who wronged him, Josiah knew he would have answered with a resounding yes.
 

At least it seemed the logical answer.

Again the vessel shifted and rolled. This time the watch bell sounded with greater urgency. Time was short. He must go. Yet. . .

“Isabelle,” he said firmly, “I would have you kiss me again.”

From her expression, he could see the change of subject confused her. “But I am—”

“A sea siren who has enchanted me beyond all understanding? Perhaps.” He paused to smile. “But I prefer to think of you as a lovely woman whom God may have gifted me with. Now before I must see to my duties as captain, I will require an answer. The kiss, Isabelle? What say you?”

The change in her expression was swift. “You’re asking permission
now
?”
 

“No,” he said softly. “Consider it more of a warning.”

This time when their lips met, it held the promise of a sweet beginning, a hope perhaps that the Lord would bestow on both of them the chance to find love regardless of the strictures of society.

After all, what was not immediately visible need not become known. Why, his hair was darker than hers by many degrees, and the skin on his arms grew much browner after he’d spent a few months at sea.
 

It was a conversation they must have, but not now.

Again the watch bell rang, leaving Josiah no time to tarry. “Duty calls, but I will continue this conversation once the storm has passed, and I will have those names. Are you injured from your battle with the bookshelf?”

Isabelle shook her head. “Nothing but my pride has been
damaged,” she said. “And it will heal, I am certain.”

“Very well then.” He surveyed the room and noted William’s trunk. Tomorrow in Key West, he must purchase another. It wouldn’t do for the lad to arrive at school and be thought less of.

In the meantime, he must find a hiding place for the coins. The trunk was no spot for secrets, nor was the sewing kit any longer. Should the dying sailor not be the only man who was involved in the heist—for this was obviously the same gold Isabelle brought aboard—then others were most likely bent on retrieving it.

The vessel gave a shudder, and Josiah took note. Theirs was no longer the safe harbor he’d predicted.
 

He dumped the coins back into the sewing box and set it in its place on the shelf, then secured the items with the safety boards. Later he would find a better hiding spot. At present, he had no more time to consider it.

“Have Cookie see to your arm, Isabelle. There may be damage that is not seen on first inspection.” He moved to take her hand in his, turning it over to see a bluish bruise already staining her flesh. “There, it is as I predicted. Now heed my warning and take care. With the gale obviously changing course, I will need all passengers fit and healthy.”

She pulled away to rub her wrist. “A compromise, Captain. I will see to the sick and, should Cookie be available, let him also see to me. Would that suffice?”

With a hasty nod, Josiah sprinted out the door. What he saw when he reached the deck stopped him in his tracks. Where once orderly discipline reigned, now the men seemed to race about as if no one was in charge. Once they caught sight of Josiah, they slowed their paces but still wore stunned expressions.

Josiah found his place at the wheel and nudged Harrigan aside. “A word with you, Mr. Harrigan,” he said. “I see nothing to indicate an emergency.”

His second in command had gone pale. “The report is not good, Captain,” he said grimly. “The repair of the breach in the hull has not held, and we are taking on water.”
 

“There’s nothing to do but race for shore,” Josiah said. “Give the order to lift anchor and unfurl the sails.”

Harrigan shook his head. “We’re doomed if we try to navigate the reef under such conditions.”

“Yet we cannot sit and wait for the
Jude
to go under,” Josiah countered. “Lift anchor and head for Key West. It is our only chance.”

“Aye, Captain,” Harrigan said.

As Josiah watched the old man shout orders to the crew, he had the chilling notion that until now he had never seen Harrigan afraid.

Redeem this vessel from the devil that seeks to claim it.

Josiah tightened his grip on the wheel and braced himself for the moment the mainsail would raise. Indeed, the gold coin that had been hiding in his cabin all along was an answer to this prayer. The subsequent storm, however, seemed to negate any thought that prayer might have saved them.

For now, salvation seemed to lie in the skill of the captain and the seaworthiness of the vessel. Fearing neither was sufficient, Josiah pondered the solution.

The sails caught wind, and the
Jude
jerked in response. While Josiah calculated the course, Harrigan reappeared on the deck. “It is as you ordered, Captain,” he said, his wrinkled face flushed with the effort. “Every man not needed on deck is stationed below to see to the breach in the hull. I’ve also taken the liberty of seeing to the ladies and young William. Mademoiselle Gayarre was below with Cookie when last I left her.”

Mademoiselle Gayarre. Were he to allow himself, Josiah knew he could easily step away from his command to seek the sea siren’s company. All the more reason to sort out things once the vessel was safely to port.

“Well done,” Josiah said. “Now, I’ve one more command. More of a request, actually.”

Harrigan gave him a sideways look. “What is that?”

“Pray, old friend, and enlist those aboard who are willing to do the same.”

He grinned. “Will you be joining us?

Josiah turned his face to the wind. “Aye, Harrigan, I believe I will.”
 

“Will you now?” The aged sailor moved into his line of sight. “And would this be a prayer of dependence or desperation?”

“
 
’Tis both, I reckon.”

---

Isabelle prayed aloud as she made her way into the depths of the ship where the ill waited on hammocks. Oddly, it was quiet down here, deathly quiet.

She cringed at the thought.
 

Already the bunk where the green-eyed sailor had slept was gone, no doubt folded up and put away in the rafters with the other bedding. She found Cookie tending to the sick.
 

“Welcome back, lass,” he said. “Are ye ill or here to help?”

“I promised the captain I would allow you to see to a slight injury I’ve recently acquired. Then I mean to check on Mr. Banks. How does he fare, by the way?”